A Place of Magic
by shadowcaster01
Summary: Muggleborn? Either this was an extensively elaborate setup, or I was in the real thing. Since I had nothing to lose either way, I should probably play along. If this all turned out to be some sort of prank, it would be much safer to be laughed at than to have my memory wiped, or worse. I smiled nervously at the major white lie I was about to give. "Yes, yes I am."


_Hey everyone!_

_This is yet another response to stuff from the HPFC forum. It's for Black Boxed's Competition: A Wake-up Call from Hogwarts. This is my entry for the multi-chapter category. I've done some things a bit differently this time around, and I hope you all enjoy it_

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**One: The Situation**

The last thing I remembered was setting my alarm for an early shift the next morning before drifting off to sleep. What met my eyes when I opened them, however, was a completely different story. It was a fairly dreary sight: cold, stone walls, with burning torches hanging from brass braces every few feet down a long, narrow corridor.

The scene in front of me felt as if I was standing on the set of some epic fantasy film and, judging from my surroundings, I'd be somewhere in the dungeons. All that was missing were the thick iron bars and patrolling guards with ancient key rings, amongst various other things. I kind of wished there _were_ guards wandering around, but the place was deserted. They would have been able to tell me where I was and what was going on; even if they might have thrown me into the next cell, at least I'd have gotten that information. On the other hand, I didn't particularly like the idea of being locked in a random cell waiting for someone to decide what to do about me.

I stood around staring for I'm not sure how long, but eventually I felt restless. Not only was I in some strange new place, but I had the feeling that I was being watched. I already knew the place was empty, but I couldn't get rid of that involuntary shiver warning otherwise, which was annoying me at the moment. It took me a few minutes to calm my nerves and reassure myself that there was indeed no one there, that I should ignore it and keep going.

Maybe I should explore a little. I'm sure there was tons more to see than what was here in front of me, but which way should I go? Both ends of the corridor appeared identical to each other, and I couldn't hear anything different from them either. That, of course, didn't help me at all. I gave a long, drawn out sigh and spun around a few times. When I stopped, I glanced up ahead and smiled.

"All right," I muttered to myself softly, feeling a strange need to keep quiet. "I'll go this way, then."

The path I chose didn't have too many twists and turns, contrary to what I'd imagined, but every now and then I'd see a door off to the side. They appeared to be the overly sturdy type, although these arched at the top – like in most medieval films. A lot of them were locked; I'd found that out by tying to turn one of the fancy door handles that should have been displayed in a museum. Unfortunately there were no windows to peer into either, which only made me more curious.

I came to another bend in the corridor, leading to a steep flight of stairs. Seeing as there was nowhere else to go, I shrugged continued on. The steps were fairly short, and some of them were chipped off in places, so I had to compensate a bit. With the state that they were in, I briefly wondered at what could cause such damage. What if there had been a skirmish down here at some point? That would be an incredibly cool piece of history for this building, wherever it was.

It took me a while to reach the top, especially since I had to pick my way along, at times skipping some of them altogether. I nearly tripped twice! I could only imagine how bad it could be if I'd fallen backwards…

At the end of the stairs was another rounded door. Luckily this one wasn't locked, or else I'd have had a problem. Upon opening it, I found myself in a much larger hallway, with a high ceiling and polished stone floor. Although the area was wider, it felt a bit more welcoming than downstairs. There were large oil based portraits lining the walls, and they were absolutely massive. Maybe I was in some sort of museum? The amount of artwork displayed would definitely explain that one: landscapes, seascapes, and portraits of people from various eras – statues, tapestries and even suits of armor lined the walls. All in all, it was a historian's dream. How long did it take to collect all of this? How much was there to see? Did they offer a tour? The more stuff I passed, the more excited I became. All of the history –

Wait, did that picture just _move_? I backtracked a bit to get a better look. I stood in front of a fairly tall painting depicting a small group of people in outfits that seemed to be from the Elizabethan era. The neck ruffles really gave that one away – never understood that fashion. A girl in a frilly blue dress off to the side of the group suddenly lifted her head and met my gaze.

I couldn't believe it. How did it do that? She was oil and canvas, that wasn't supposed to happen; but here she was, acting as if she were a real person. Then the girl laughed. I'm sure it was at my expression, since I was most likely gaping or something equally silly. But I couldn't help it; how could I _not_ stare at a picture that was acting like video footage?

"Are you lost, miss?" A random voice piped up.

I swear I must have jumped at least five feet into the air when I heard that. I whirled around; no one was in the corridor.

"Who's there?" I called out, feeling a bit anxious at that moment. My voice shook a little, but really, who could blame me? I kept looking for the source of the sound, but it was freaky how I couldn't find it.

"Over here," the masculine voice chuckled. "To your left – no, down a bit."

There were a few more voices calling out similar instructions, which made things a bit confusing, and it didn't help that a number of them were clearly enjoying my confusion. I could hear several laughing at me. Apart from the laughter, I could catch snippets of hushed conversation if I listened carefully enough. Some of them already had my mind racing, but I'd ponder on them later.

"It's been a while since breakfast; what's she doing out of class?"

"I've never seen her here before –"

"Is she a student; where's her uniform?"

"Poor dear, looks confused – "

"Muggle clothes – "

"The headmaster – "

I finally spotted the portrait after a while, and I was glad that he'd been patient with me while I looked. The frame was intricately detailed with all sorts of swirls and patterns, but it only distracted me for a moment. Within that frame a bearded man was standing on a ledge overlooking a wide valley filled with rolling green hills and pastures. He was in crusader getup – chainmail, sword and scabbard, with a long white tabard that reached his ankles. His expression was kind, and he smiled at me when I looked at him.

"Oh, good," he said with a bit of an accent. "Like I was asking you before, are you lost?"

I frowned at the question. Wasn't it obvious? Although, I think maybe he was just saying it to be polite. He was still looking at me intently, so I nodded. Almost all of the paintings began talking at once, and it was hard to figure out who said what. It really just sounded like a loud jumble of garbled words, which reverberated off the walls the same way it would with a regular crowd of people. Even if I hadn't seen and heard it myself, I'd still be hard pressed to believe what was happening. Several of them appeared to be arguing with each other, but I wasn't certain what it was that they were talking about, although I knew it was somehow related to me. My ears rang slightly from it.

After a few moments of pure chatter, the portraits fell silent. The crusader seemed grateful for the peace as well, and I couldn't blame him. Who knew that paintings could be so noisy?

"Is there somewhere you needed to get to, miss?" He enquired again in a fairly gentle tone.

"If she's lost, I'd think she does," another portrait pointed out dryly, to which there were a few murmurs of agreement. The crusader ignored it.

"Can you give me a moment?" I muttered, to which the portraits nodded. I sat down on the floor to think things through.

Okay, what were my current facts? One, with all of the things I'd seen so far, I was probably in a castle of some sort. Two, the paintings here apparently have the power to move and speak, which shouldn't be possible, but they're doing it anyway. Three, it sounded like I was in some sort of school, since they'd mentioned classes –

Wait; when the portraits were talking I thought they'd said…

"Excuse me," I called out. "But did I hear one of you say _muggle_?"

The paintings gave significant glances to each other almost as one unit, which made me a little uneasy. The crusader was the one to answer my question; it seemed as though they'd silently agreed to let him do the talking.

"They were discussing your clothes," he replied. "Are you muggleborn, by any chance?"

_Muggleborn_? Either this was an extensively elaborate setup, or I was in the real thing. I'd already established that these were genuine paintings rather than HD screens, so that meant there was a possibility of it all being true. Since I had nothing to lose either way, I should probably play along. If this all turned out to be some sort of prank, it would be much safer to be laughed at than to have my memory wiped, or worse.

I smiled nervously at the major white lie I was about to give. "Yes, yes I am."

The portraits began talking again, but I didn't pay them any attention. That last piece of information left my mind reeling. I suddenly knew where I was, although I still wasn't sure if I could believe it. I was inside Hogwarts – the real castle, including all the magic that goes with it. The talking portraits were enough of a testament to it there. And _magic_! If I was in Hogwarts, then magic was real too. Although a part of me desperately wanted to jump up and down in excitement, I knew I had to confirm it all first. The portraits really weren't enough. I had to see the rest for myself before I could fully believe that I was in Wizarding Britain, or that this could all just be an extremely vivid dream.

But, assuming that all of this was real, there was also the matter of where I was in relation to the timeline. I had to find that out as well, in case I accidentally made anything worse. Who knew what could happen if I let the wrong thing slip – I'd either look like a complete idiot or irreparably mess everything up. Unfortunately, I could only find out a few things without raising suspicion. If I was in their shoes, I'd be seriously doubting the person's sanity if I was asked what year it was. I hated lying, but I really hoped that this one would hold until I had a better idea of my situation. Depending on when I was, I could be in a whole lot of trouble. I sighed. May as well get it over with.

"Does anyone happen to know the time?" Best to start with the easiest ones first.

The portraits murmured amongst themselves again, and I think one left their frame briefly to check. They should put some clocks on the walls around here; it's not like everyone wore watches anymore. I wondered briefly how long I'd been here. It was hard to tell, but from my walk so far, I knew it had to be a while.

One highly decorated wizard returned to his frame. I was surprised by how quick it was to get to the hall from here, was it really that close by?

"A few of the portraits outside the Great Hall say that lunch ended," he said, reclining in a chair painted behind him. "Classes have already started."

I wasn't particularly fond of interrupting a teacher during their lesson, and I didn't like the idea of being stared at by the students that would be in the room. I knew I had to talk to someone about my situation, and although it was terribly cliché, it would have to be the headmaster. Whoever it was would have all the connections necessary to come up with a solution to my problem; they had the board of directors and the ministry checking up on the school often enough, if I thought about what Dumbledore had to deal with. Even if it turned out to be someone else, that was the only plan I had at the moment.

Where was that office? The films always cut between scenes and the books didn't exactly specify. With the way the castle was set up, I had a feeling that it moved, much like those staircases do. I frowned. Was this based on the films or the books? The castle layout was a little different depending on which one was used, but I didn't think it deviated too much. Maybe the real thing was something else altogether? Jeez, this was confusing.

"Can any of you direct me to the headmaster's office?" I asked the portraits, who suddenly became extremely interested once I mentioned the headmaster. "I have a bit of an issue that I need to discuss with him."

"He is usually quite busy, miss," the crusader piped up again. Well, that confirmed one thing, McGonagall hadn't taken over. "Is it something that someone else can help you with?"

These portraits were nosy. I shook my head. "Not really," I replied. "I'm new here, and I was told that I should speak to the headmaster about settling in." And, there goes another lie. Well, sort of…

I sighed when the paintings began talking amongst themselves again. Was there really much time for this? If I didn't hurry, I'd likely run into a student or a teacher that knew I wasn't supposed to be here. If I was caught, it would all go downhill from there.

The crusader looked at me again. "If you are sure no one else can help you out, I will show you where it is," he told me quietly once the noise had settled down. "But be quick; it is a bit of a walk, and these hallways can get crowded between classes."

I nodded, relieved. "Thanks. Show me the way, please."

He beckoned me to follow him and began to run through the other portraits down the hall. I had to jog in order to keep sight of him. Depending on the type of painting, it was a bit of a challenge to pick the guy out. Then he'd be in the next one for a few moments, calling out for me to pay attention, and we'd be off again. It continued like this until I reached another flight of stairs, which I climbed under the portrait's encouragement to hurry. Apparently it was one of the moving staircases, which I managed to clear just before it started to shift. The crusader didn't give me much time to celebrate my close call; instead he told me to keep moving.

This second corridor was basically a repeat of the last. The various portraits were muttering amongst themselves as we passed them by. I'm sure that they'd still be talking about this later on; from what I'd heard these guys like to gossip. We turned a corner and came across another flight of stairs. Luckily this one didn't move, but I still wanted to clear it before class ended. I had no idea how much time had passed since I first met the portraits in that first hallway, and I didn't want to stand around to find out.

"One more!" The crusader's voice called out from a picture two frames ahead of me.

I could hear the other paintings' cries of indignation or surprise. I think some of them had been sleeping earlier, as I saw at least one witch scratch her head as she watched us pass, bleary eyed. I kept going, though; there'd be more time to look around later. It wasn't until I heard him call out again from a generically painted landscape that I realized we were already there. I stopped and stared.

Just like in the books, a panel of wall was blocked from view by a large stone gargoyle. It was the same dull shade as the wall behind it, the face impassive as it seemingly stared into nothing. I knew it was just waiting, though. As I stood there I realized I had a problem; I didn't know the password.

The crusader cleared his throat. "Well, here is the headmaster's office," he said unnecessarily. "Was there anything else?"

Oh crud, now what do I do? On the one hand, I didn't want all the portraits knowing about me just yet. Although they'd seen me, I was hoping that by the time word had spread around, I'd already have proper permission to be here. Oh, good grief, I was trespassing! No, think about that later.

Okay, back to topic. I wanted to seem like I was supposed to be here, at least until I sorted things out. I couldn't do that while this one portrait was still here, he might tell all the others about me lying. That would make things worse. But I didn't know the password to get in to see the headmaster. Without knowing who was inside, I had no real indication of what kind of keyword I needed to use to move that gargoyle. I guess I could ask the statue for help as a last resort, but –

I looked back over at the crusader, who was still waiting around patiently for my reply. I'd swear that he had to be some sort of saint, anyone else would have probably told me to hurry up by now. Although part of me was screaming that since he'd been so nice to me I should ask him for help, I knew what I had to do.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "That was all." The guy seemed a bit skeptical of my answer, but accepted it nonetheless. "Thanks for your help."

He smiled at me. "It was no problem," he replied. "It is not like I had anything better to do."

I snorted at that. "Good point," I murmured. It'd be incredibly boring just sitting around in a frame all day, no wonder they liked to talk so much.

"I hope you enjoy your stay here at Hogwarts," the crusader said as he turned to leave. "You are welcome to stop by my frame for a chat if you wish."

"Wait," I called out. He paused. "I never got your name."

I felt kind of silly as I realized that, during the time he'd helped me out, I'd never bothered to introduce myself. It was strange, that would have been one of the first things I'd have done if this were a normal situation. Maybe that was the reason; this wasn't normal. But that didn't really excuse the fact that I'd been rude to this guy.

"I am incredibly sorry, miss," He frowned. "I am Charles D'Antoine, but you can call me Charles," Charles bowed with a flourish. I grinned at the display.

"Jenifer Lemaítre," I said back to him, inclining my head a bit. It seemed like the right thing to do, although I did feel guilty about the name I gave. I didn't think supplying my real last name would be a good idea around here – who knows what would happen otherwise? Wizarding folk were so nosy, I'd expect some of them to try and look me up, especially those pureblood fanatics. Probably best not to think about that, as I was certain the consequences could have been bad. Hopefully that random old foreign name would work, but – should I have said Smith instead? I think that was a common name here, but I wasn't too sure. I shrugged. Oh, well, too late now…

Charles smiled back at me. "It was nice to meet you," he replied, before looking around. "I guess I shall leave you to your business."

"All right," I agreed, shrugging a bit. "I'll see you around, then." I was definitely going to pay that portrait a visit later, he'd been such a great help so far.

Charles nodded, then turned and headed back the way he came. I could hear the portraits complaining as he ran through their frames, the voices becoming fainter as he went further down the hall. After a few moments I was on my own again, discounting the part-time animated gargoyle in front of me. I faced it again, going over my options in my head.

Should I just start blurting random words to see if they worked? It would probably take ages that way to find the right one, but there was definitely a chance that I'd get it, however small. If not, it was likely that a teacher or prefect would find me, in which case I'd just ask them what it is. Apart from that, I wasn't sure if the gargoyle actually spoke or not. Would it help me if I asked it to? I'd never heard of something like that happening before, so I was prepared for it to completely backfire on me. I felt a bit odd talking to a statue, but then again I'd been talking to an oil painting not too long ago. Things were already strange enough, and I knew that they would only get stranger after this.

"Um, excuse me, gargoyle statue?" I called out to it hesitantly. I glanced around quickly; the paintings didn't appear to be startled by this, so I figured I was on the right track. "Is the headmaster in his office?"

"Yes," it replied in a surprisingly deep voice. I waited a bit, but it didn't say anything more.

"Could you let me go up there to see him? It's kind of important."

Somehow, the statue's eyes narrowed in what I was guessing was suspicion. "No."

I slumped at the answer. "Could you at least give me a hint to the password, then?"

"No." Great, _now_ what do I do?

"So I'm stuck here till someone else walks by?" The statue shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"He knows."

"He _does_?" That really changed things. Did the headmaster have a way of seeing me here? No cameras, but maybe the portraits. Was there one out here that had another frame in there? That was so freaky, no wonder Dumbledore acted like could tell before someone went in. That kind of made sense in a really creepy way.

"Yes." I frowned.

"Do you always talk in monosyllables?" It nodded, and I shook my head. Now it was being a smart-aleck.

Okay, so if the headmaster knows I'm out here, is he waiting for me to say the password to get in, or is he already aware that I don't know what it is, and is secretly laughing at my situation? Hey, I don't know how exactly their minds work, so it was possible. Maybe. Okay, probably not. Would Dumbledore even do that? I'm not sure, I mean, he doesn't seem like the type…

Here goes nothing. I took a deep breath and started rattling off some of the passwords I remembered hearing.

"Acid pops; toffee éclair; fizzing whizbee; cockroach cluster; sherbet lemon – " I nearly jumped when the gargoyle suddenly sprang to the side. The blank panel slid away to reveal a narrow flight of stairs, and I couldn't see the top of them. Well, that was a bit easier than I'd thought it would be. I was certain that I would be stuck out there till a teacher found me; especially with the way that gargoyle was talking to me. I think that's the last time I want to hear it again.

After a few moments of staring I moved forward, quietly thanking the statue as I passed it. When I entered the stairwell, the panel slid closed behind me. I briefly felt claustrophobic, but I managed to shake it off. It didn't take too long to reach the top, and as I approached the door I felt exceedingly nervous. What if I didn't know who it was? What if I did? I outlined what I wanted to say in my head as I stood in front of the plain wooden door. Although, how I'd present it depended greatly on who I saw inside. I was in mid thought when the door slowly creaked open, and I heard an overly familiar voice call out:

"Enter."

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…**..**

_Okay, so there you have it. As I said at the top of the page, I wrote this in response to a competition, namely one for self-inserts. This is the first of this type I've ever written, not only that, but I decided to challenge myself and try this in first person too. So, it may not have as much of a polished feel to it as I would usually post for my stories, since I'm more used to writing in third person, but I'm working on it._

_That's it for now, so until next time, peace out!_

_Shadowcaster01_


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